Backstage heat: The Resurgence of a locker-room leader
by Beyond The Mat
Summary: Since becoming WWE Champ again, at SummerSlam '13, there's been a lot going on behind the scenes. A lot of backstabbing, a lot of soul-searching, and a lot of internal pressure. When Alberto Del Rio loses his cool on TV because of Sin Cara, RKO speaks up in his defense. Little does he know he's being watched.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Really? Like you don't know this shit already. Get out of the way. Oh, and review it if you want more. If you don't, then maybe this'll just stand as-is.

(-Malenko's writer)

* * *

Fucking Sin.  
Again.

Now, Randy remembers very well the private discussion he had with Vince in the office, hours after the lights went down on this past RAW where Daniel Bryan was attacked by The Shield as Randy and the McMahon Family and Triple H stood in the ring.

Vince had told Randy that it was -his- idea to crown Randy champ this time.  
And that Paul was on a serious powertrip.  
And that, as fucked up as it sounds, it's true. Paul's not -really- Randy's friend.

That had hurt, but Randy had suspected it for awhile.

It also came out that Randy's second Wellness Strike was one that Paul himself oversaw. Sent Randy's labs back for a 'closer look', if you will. That was Triple H's way of using corporate power to keep Randy "in line."

Whereas Randy had been mentored by Triple H, Randy had considered him a personal friend. In the same vein, Randy had mentored Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase and they're more like his -brothers- than his -friends-. But it was a mistake on Randy's part to not see Triple H as the cold-blooded, calculated motherfucker he truly is.

Vince's approval means the world to Randy. Vince knows that. So that private talk went a long way.

And everybody knows who went clear down to Mexico to go recruit Sin. Yep, that would be Paul again. The same one who'd hired the disaster that Kharma turned out to be...which was a damned shame because she really could have brought the Divas Division to new heights had she not had her issues.

Randy had tried when Sin first got hired (you know, those 5 minutes before Sin's first Wellness Strike) to be cool with him, even going sightseeing with him and a group overseas. But it was awkward as fuck when you're with a guy who knows NO English and is just pointing at shit.

Oh, and wearing a mask.

Anyway. The X that got thrown on TV? Legit. Del Rio disregarding the fucking X? Legit. Okay, at the first glance at the monitor, the boys in the back were going, "Holy shit." It did look initially like Sin's wrist might've broken.

But you know what?  
Vince cut promos with multiple quad tears.  
Hunter tore his Quad and still made Jericho perform the Walls to finish the match properly.  
Randy's collarbone had broken in a match and he finished.

A dislocated -finger-. Are you fucking serious. Cry to the ref and get an X thrown for that. Seriously. So Del Rio had lost his cool in front of the cameras some. (Del Rio was also wearing the marks of a very unscripted, very real jump he'd suffered at a hotel, where Mac Intyre actually had to help fend the dudes off.) Randy wasn't about to judge Del Rio for losing his cool on TV...he'd done it himself, a la Kofi "STUPID! STUPID! YOU FUCKIN' DUMMY!"

But here's the thing. Del Rio's generated himself some heat backstage from time to time. Some guys were just giving no fucks. Randy stood there in his gear (No, not his suit but yes, with the belt, because he was afraid some asshole would try to rib and take it) watching, and did give a fuck.

Vince had said that unless Randy -wanted- to step up once more as a locker room leader, it wasn't necessary.  
Hunter had told Randy to watch his ass.  
Vince had told Randy to watch his ass, too.

"You should be carin' about what you see on that monitor," he'd said to some of the younger roster. "Bret Hart dislocated 4 fingers in a match. He went under the bottom rope, jumped off the apron, popped 'em back in, and got back in there. NECKS have been broken. Anybody who wants to pussy out for a finger in a match...go tell Malenko that. Go tell him now. Enough NXT guys waiting to come up to take spots."

Randy shook his head as Sin was brought past them and to the trainer. Del Rio came in shortly thereafter and it was -Randy- who extended his hand to shake Alberto's.

"I'da done the same thing. Not sure if you wanted to hear that or not," he said with a sardonic smirk.

* * *

Dean Malenko was standing somewhere closer to the shadows, which might sound creepy as fuck but it wasn't because the lighting back here blows. The big money in the lighting in this company is in the Titantrons, the entrances, the pyro. Not back here in the locker room. Everybody, even the too-tanned-talent, was a shade of green under these cheap ass lights. Even Titus O'Neill, who sort of nodded his head, Dean noticed, to what Randy had to say.

Dean's quiet. He watches when nobody thinks he does. He does have a wicked sense of humor as seen in Japan when one of Orton's closer buddies on the roster got into a bit of a bitchfit over some broad with another guy on the roster, and Dean texted Orton to take care of it rather than take care of it himself in his capacity as a road agent.

Wanna know why Dean texted Orton rather than intervene?  
Because anything Dean intervenes in, he has a duty to report to the front office.

So he'll listen more than talk. If he comes to you and says something, you better listen. This man knows his shit.

But to hear his name out of -Orton's- mouth, advising the indifferent to come see him? Dean knew that threat when he heard it and inwardly, he smiled. He'd known Orton had something special, something not seen since Bob Sr. was here. (No, not Randy's father. His grandfather.) It just took digging through a lot of coal to find the diamond. There was a mix of disgust and wising up among the roster who were within Orton's earshot when he'd said "Go tell Malenko that."

Because that was code for, "Get the fuck out."

Dean liked it. He just continued to listen.

* * *

To Randy's credit, he didn't know Dean -was- there when he said it. He'd just, well, been himself. That 'natural leader' shit, which Randy had always attributed to a more-or-less broken brain-to-mouth filter.

He would've said it if he -had- known Dean was there, but he wasn't showing off or anything. He'd meant it. And he didn't care who heard. It was the truth. And speaking of Truth, good on Ron Killings for publicly agreeing with Randy as well. A few guys -did-.

You can bet your candy asses that Dean's watching, pretty much like a hawk, to each and every reaction from all the guys in his range of vision. His brain's recording who's blowing off what Orton said. You can bet he's calculating strengths and weaknesses, and you can bet he's doing his fucking job.

Although the lighting here, as well as the food, blows. Blows fucking -goats-. And not 'goats' as in Greatest Of All Time or Daniel Bryan-style goats. We're talking baa-aaaa motherfuckers. Green lighting on some green and not-so-green talent. Who needs this shit?

Well, Dean does. He lives for this shit. Move.


	2. Chapter 2

Special thanks to Destroyer of Nations for reviewing Chapter 1. Same rule applies for Chapter 2 as did Chapter 1...if you like it, let us know.

* * *

Introducing two OCs in this chapter:

OCs new to the SmackDown! Roster from NXT: Diva Laurel Fairfax and Superstar Blake Vaughn in this chapter. She's just making a cameo appearance, he's got more involvement, but their bios are included on the bottom of this page. (She's a dead ringer for Kelly Kelly. You can Google her face's name and see for yourself. PUT THE SAFE SEARCH FILTER ON SHOULD YOU DO SO, if you're under 18 or have somebody looking over your shoulder, because otherwise, you might get an eyeful of cock and find yourself stammering an explanation, and Malenko's writer will laugh at you.)

* * *

Laurel Fairfax looked down at her own finger, still wrapped up, from an incident with a soda can. Neosporin had healed it "four days quicker" just like the TV commercial says, but it's covered to prevent scarring. It doesn't hurt that it's a clear Band-Aid, and it doesn't hurt that her dark match, in which of course, she lost, was short, pretty much a squash match, and her hand hadn't been jostled around. But even she felt awkward seeing the X thrown for that.

She wasn't among the closest to the monitor, but had stayed nearer the back, but even she could feel that Viper's gaze and heard the words. You know she scattered. It was safer in Catering. She was too green to say anything and there weren't many other Divas nearby, so this was a totally awkward moment.

* * *

The girl flew under Dean Malenko's radar. Hell, he thought she was Kelly.

* * *

Sin is fucking it up for everyone.

Blake Vaughn was itching to have a spot like Sin's. A push like he had; attention like he had. Blake was hungry for something like that, it's something dreams are made of. Not every day you get to just up and change countries, and without any experience, get to be something important. Yes, Blake knew all about the guy's experience in Mexico as Mistico, but it was like Sin had come in here with zero experience, considering how badly he botched everything, from moves to drug tests. Casual fans bought into Sin Cara's shit, although the internet would rip the guy to shreds whenever possible. It was pretty funny to read, but seeing this? It had pissed Blake off, personally.

Blake had done the same to himself. A slight dislocation in his index finger in his training, and it was nothing to just get it back into place and keep going. With the adrenaline going, you wouldn't even feel it. You'd want to get it looked at when the math was done, but as for now? Finish the fucking match.

He wasn't gonna shake Alberto's hand right now; he wasn't even -that- known as a rookie, but him and Sin did have a small and silent exchange. Through the mask, he felt the eyes. He knew. He had to know his spot was gone. With John Cena out on injury leave, Creative were trying a lot of new things. There had been a backstage pep talk when John left, saying that there was a chance for everyone available. He wanted it.

Ted DiBiase, Blake's informal mentor and kayfabe opponent, had gone to shower, as they had worked the dark match for Raw. A lot of the same people that went to Summerslam had gone to Raw, so they knew what to expect. Ted and Blake were tied at one. Blake won his debut, and Ted had won the match tonight. It would be taped tomorrow, so all of their kinks had been ironed out, and they were ready. Well, the phrase was "TV ready," and he had to agree. Ted had waited a long time for this, and he could tell in the matches they had. It was like they were killing each other for ten minutes, just for the sake of being noticed. Something rookies did, but Ted had been here for...Five years? Maybe five and a half now.

Wasn't a place for weak links, and no, not Daniel Bryan. He was a hippie, sure, but he knew his way around a ring. But Sin? Of all people? Blake didn't show the guy much sympathy. He was brand new, and he knew not to do what Sin did.

* * *

Phil "CM Punk" Brooks laughed a little bit to himself, as he was going through his bag.

Randy was the new, temporary #1. A spot Phil knew himself. He knew how good it felt, and unlike Randy, he didn't become some sort of outspoken leader. He let guys fail, and let people make their own choices. This is the type of shit that gets you a reputation as a "_'s bitch/boy/grunt."

Then again, maybe Randy knew that.

He also watched Sin try to stare down the rookie. Didn't care for either of them, really, because he never watched either of them. But Sin fucked up, and didn't even know it. He wasn't going to get fired though, golden boys never did. As long as kids are buying his masks and armbands? He's not going anywhere. He'll lose more, sure. He probably won't be on Monday nights anymore, but there's still a little money to be pulled in with him. Dumbass probably doesn't even get a cut of his merchandise sales. They'd milk him dry.

As for Randy, it was in one ear and out the other for Punk. He was gonna put Randy in his category. "A superstar when they want you to be one."

'Cept Phil doesn't have any wellness strikes. Sorry, not sorry.

* * *

Randy cut a look to Punk. A silent exchange of their own began.

And could Randy be blamed for his fingers casually touching the new RKO side plates in the recently restyled WWE Championship belt? The way his fingers did it was barely noticeable to anyone, just a slight movement. Not like jacking off or even a loving fondle. But he allowed his eyes to crease up at the edges, in almost what might at first glance appear to be a smile, but you know better.

"That's how this business works. _Nobody's_ a Superstar unless -they- want you to be one...and not for a moment _longer_ than they want you to be."

* * *

The exchange between Vaughn and Sin Cara had been duly noted within the wise eyes that watched, and a silent point was awarded Vaughn by Dean Malenko. Dean's one of the guys who helped push that kid up, not that the kid hadn't done well himself. And mercifully, the Vaughn kid hadn't done anything retarded. He'd spared the internet from Zack Ryder's bullshit..not that the original Z! True Long Island Stories or whatever those things are called weren't entertaining, but you don't, do not, do not ever, do that here.

Do that shit in the Indys. Hell, do it in TNA. Nobody cares about TNA. But don't do it here.

When the company wants you over, they'll let you know.

And that's what was going through his head until his attention snapped to the Punk/Orton exchange. _Oh, here we go_, thought Malenko. He adjusted his stance back here and watched. He could see the smugness radiating from Phil, and did chuckle softly to himself because you could -see- that CM Punk was gloating. It had to be that Straight Edge shit. While Punk held that belt for an impressive consecutive amount of days, it had been the spinner belt.

You know everybody wanted this one first. Rock got it first, because, business. Then Cena got it, because, Cena. But who would've gotten it next? Much of Creative had wanted to put Punk's plates on. Yes, they're designed. Have the straight-edge X marks as well as the T-shirt logo. They're actually pretty sweet and are in a locked case in Connecticut. Talent doesn't actually get to see them until they're added to their belt when it's their turn, and right now, it's not Punk's turn.

So Randy's got something pretty prestigious, and Dean could see that sleight of hand going on. And he also heard the dig. Basically a shitty way of saying "and back to the upper midcard for you," which was ice-cold, but the delivery of the line almost made it seem like Orton was -agreeing- with Punk, for the uninitiated. And there were a ton of uninitiateds back here.

He continued to monitor.

* * *

_Laurel Fairfax's bio:_

Name: Laurel Noelle Fairfax  
Ring Name: Seemingly changed every week (read below for more)  
(Character's face: Samantha Saint)

Laurel presents a decent opportunity for WWE, in that when her makeup's done the right way, she's the generic, Kelly Kellyish looking stereotype of a Diva. Her face shape photographs particularly well, as opposed to, say, the horseyness of the current favorite flavor of the month, Summer Rae. Laurel doesn't have skeletons in the closet that are waiting, like many wannabe female wrestlers do, like a sex tape or nude stills floating around on the internet*, and she's young-but-not-too-young. 23 is decent, and fresh, and she can get a hotel room in her name, unlike the troubles that keep holding Eddie and Vickie Guerrero's daughter back.

Laurel isn't as proficient in the ring as, for example, AJ Lee or (another OC Diva you'll see in our stories soon) Olivia Holt, but she can take a bump and not get catty about it. She's younger than Ashley Flair, but without a father who wields power, or at least the illusion of it, in the company, so she's concerned about job security more than many. While she made it through NXT, the crowd tends to go mild for her, rather than wild. It's with hope that with more practice, she'll make perfect. No, she doesn't expect to hold the Divas title any time soon, but she's not just using the company as a springboard for bigger and better things.

The company has her using just "Laurel" right now, no last name, although recently Justin Roberts did announce her as "Laurel Fairfax." In NXT, they called her "Laurel Chambers" once, another time, "Lauren Chambers." She was in a little blurb in WWE Magazine as "Lauren Fairchild", and it got to the point where she felt like she didn't even know her own name. Creative had thought of calling her Ashley, but with Ashley Flair on the payroll, that wasn't a good idea. But bouncing between Laurel and Lauren, it seems like they don't know what they're doing with her.

She's actually a nice person, who isn't looking to sleep with the entire roster, or even a portion of it, although she is single and has been for two years now. She and her long-term boyfriend parted over her decision to go into pro wrestling. He accused her of being a lesbian (she's not) for wanting such close and personal physical contact with other women. Rather than deny his allegation, she shrugged it off. She couldn't explain her fascination with wanting to do this for a living. Her name isn't leaving too many lips in the guys' locker room, because she hasn't slept her way through to get where she is. If she had, she would have done a crappy job of it since she's really probably the lowest on the Diva totem pole.

She's not a gossip, although she will keep her ears open. She's not a bitch, although she tries not to let herself get pushed around. She made the mistake of being friendly with Aksana, but that blew up in her face when Aksana tried to use her as a wingman (wingwoman?) once too often, when they would go out post-show, and Aksana more or less demanded Laurel sleep with a midcarder, who won't be named, in order for Aksana to get with his friend. Laurel refused, not because the guy wasn't attractive, but because she's not about to take "bumps" like THAT, because a female colleague was basically ordering her to.

Of course the story that made its way around the Divas locker room differed..Aksana spread a rumor that Laurel was a lesbian. That's the second time that the allegation was made. This time, it was denied, but it really wasn't worth giving Aksana's words any merit by bothering to answer. The other women were pretty supportive of her, knowing Aksana's a bit of a bitch and pushy. Laurel wasn't the first that Aksana put in that position and likely won't be the last.

She does harbor a crush on a Superstar, but she'll never tell who.

(*her Character's face does in fact have sex tapes and nude stills, but not this character. Laurel is appropriate for the company.)

* * *

_Blake Vaughn's bio:_

_He wasn't supposed to even come this far, to be honest._

_Blake was only working with the company as a jobber. A developmental jobber, during a clinic for potential talent. He was certainly smaller than most of the guys, and seemed to be a bit more on the bland side._

Now, make no mistake. He had a build. He was 5'10 and 200 lbs. even, compared to the former football players around him though, he was still the runt of the pack.

But he was able toss shine, and gather plenty of attention for himself.

See, the boys had been showed the basics. Jobbers were mixed in like lab rats, to make the other guys have someone to lock up with, and toss around. The week long experiment was paying enough to get his bills paid for two months, so he was willing to do whatever he was told. Full Sail University was fully functional, and the new training facility let him get to his old habits, and he ended up impressing by his habits alone. He was outworking guys twice his size, but that was just the beginning.

In-ring, think young Jericho. He wasn't going to ever be considered the "Greatest of all time," but he was smooth in the ring, and he would be homegrown if they took him.

"Him? HIM? We're here for the linebackers and the wide receivers. We hired him to get his ass kicked for a week. He knew what this was when he signed the deal." Hunter had said.

His moveset was dynamic, and you could tell he was able to adept, as well as take a beating. They had lucked up on plenty of divas, but they were looking for more male superstars that weren't from the indies. Guys they could take, and mold in their image. Granted, he wasn't the size they wanted, but that was a fact they were having to let go.

"He's money. Look at him go, Hunter. That's raw talent. And that's not anybody's kid, or here by some slick deal." Arn had said in the kid's defense.

"He got lucky."

"No, -we- got lucky. I'm tellin' you, I'm puttin' in word for him. He has the potential."

And Arn wasn't the only guy who thought so. All it took was the kid to actually open his mouth and speak. Most of the guys were afraid and completely nervous when they had to record a promo. But this kid was able to cut a heel promo perfectly. It was mildly generic, but it was the best they had seen out of this pack. "Give him time to build a character, I'm telling you. He's money." Arn argued. Plenty of people agreed.

Coming from Montana, there wasn't much to do. To be lucky enough to have a passion you can easily access, you better believe this was something he wanted. He was going to school in his hometown, at Montana State University, so he was able to live at home while he trained. He had a teenage little sister to look out for, and an older brother that also helped run the household. His parents were together, but the family was just that united. They liked the space they shared, even with their own separate agendas.

All this raw talent, and untapped potential, and his saving grace? He had just turned 23.

"He can function on the road. This is more than just luck, I'm telling you."

Now, they don't plan on pushing the kid to the moon, but he probably will be making a few NXT tapings, and might even luck up and get to TV faster than others. There's no real order when it comes to TV time, but it's clear that WWE is still in favor of their own guys, instead of those who come pre-made. Guys like Daniel Bryan and Dean Ambrose, who are so set in their ways they can be hassles to work with.

"This kid keeps working like he his, and I'm tellin' you. Just maybe..."

Some people are convinced that he may be the next superstar. Yeah, that drastic. If not, at least in that category for the next generation. "John was rough around the edges. As was plenty of other guys. But he's got youth on his side, a good head on his shoulders. He even tested clean. He's just...Old-fashioned. I like 'em."

Well, he had Arn on his side. And with many more being forced to stop and take notice in order to give opinions on him and his "classmates," he'll be gaining more eyes on him soon enough. If you see him pushed up to the main roster, just know he's one of the lucky ones who got a free pass. A lot of people already have ideas. He'll be getting his soon enough.

Sounds pretty lucky, but this is all for a kid who's never lived outside of his home before. He's only finished two years of college, and he's already landed his dream job. With no work experience outside of flipping burgers and baby-sitting, he won't even be able to do much should this not work. Hell, WWE doesn't even go to Montana. He was invited here because he applied on their website, and was given a follow-up e-mail specifying him to be "help." An "Extra."

He was able to take acting classes, and he was something of an athlete. He was denied his gymnastics scholarship for an old ankle injury, but you better believe he deserved it. Had translated into high-flying pretty easily. He was speed and agility on his side, as opposed to much strength. Let's be real. He knows he's out-sized by virtually everyone here. Besides Daniel Bryan, but he's pretty fucking puny.

Maybe movies? TV shows? Nickelodeon? Anything but something regular. He didn't want to end up with an average life. And this was far from average, to say the least. It's going to be a big adjustment, he's still trying to put up with being so homesick all of the time. Hasn't really bonded with too many people, and he's focusing on just work alone. While it is shaping him up nicely, it's not doing him anymore justices.

A Cinderella story to be, basically. Just watch.


	3. Chapter 3

Special thanks and a shout-out to Destroyer of Nations for reviewing Chapter 2. Appreciate it. This chapter's a little short, because my writing partner's been sidelined for the moment. We'll be back as a team soon, but while this is a short chapter, the story does continue.

* * *

Dear God, Phil prayed that wasn't a dig at him. 

Because we all know who bumped who out of their #2 spot. And that wasn't by corporate, nor was that by any sort of luck, or big break. Punk made that spot for himself. He generated more buzz in one night than Randy ever had in his career, or anyone else ever had in this whole damn era. Sorry, not sorry. 

So yeah, Randy was champion right now. But it was a fucking cycle, and it wouldn't be long before Punk was back on his way in, and Randy was back to the B-title on Friday nights, jobbing to Christian and Alberto all over again. Let's not forget where we came from, shall we?

He gave a few dirty looks to a few people who were eating this shit up from Randal, because those were the guys that would probably get recruited to be next in line. The next few corporate champions, and no, not the storyline. Guys the company showed bias to, and wanted personally as champion. Phil wasn't one of those guys. 

Could have taken a head off right there, including the damn rookie. Any time a new kid stepped up, they just ate away at TV time, and fucking stole it. Yeah, he said it. They -stole- TV time from talent that really needed it. Let the rookie find his way around NXT. Everyone else had to. Plenty of guys that were better had to. But this kid? He just gets a free pass? 

Funny. He even chuckled lowly to himself as he exited, shaking his head.

* * *

It most certainly _was_ a dig at him. 

The whole -business- is a cycle. That's Randy's -point-. 

The leer only now became a smile when Punk's eyes shifted onto the others who were now getting notice. 

If Punk could hear the voice in Randy's head, it's saying "-Now- you get it." 

But his lips wouldn't sync with his brain, because he wouldn't give Punk the satisfaction. He even watched Punk's exit, but then that smile faded and Randy himself threw a look towards the ones who'd escaped Punk's notice, for reasons clearly opposite of Punk's. He looked at the ones who still seemed to not really give a shit one way or the other, who Randy hadn't reached with his first set of remarks or through his exchange with Punk. 

The smirk crept back up into its usual resting spot, and he stared down any who wanted some.

* * *

Laurel Fairfax stared down at her lukewarm cup of coffee as she sat in Catering, and realized by watching the clouds in it from the half & half she'd poured into it, that her hands had a slight tremor to them even now. Tension can grow thick backstage at events, and no one was immune to feeling it. She's trying to put it in perspective in her own head:

_Look. That's a Superstar thing, not even a Diva thing. Why are you so nervous about it? Yes, Randy Orton's tone could unnerve anybody. And that look on his face. But he wasn't talking to -you-, he didn't mean -you-, these guys don't give a shit about Diva matches. The only thing shorter than Diva matches lately are Wyatt Family Squash matches. So why are you more or less hiding in here?_

"Are you deaf or something?"

Laurel blinked as she looked up. A Bella twin..she wasn't sure which until she stole a look at the breasts...okay, Nikki, since she's the one with the implants..was looking down at Laurel sitting there and rolled her eyes. "You're needed in makeup. I can see why," she said, rather cattily. Laurel wasn't about to talk back or anything. After all, the whole designation of "Veterans" that the Bella Twins were enjoying being called since their reality show on E! began, well that status had gone right to their heads. Everybody knew they weren't veterans in the true sense of the word. The true veteran of the ring on the current roster is Natalya. If we're talking how long someone's been under contract, even Rosa Mendes could qualify as a veteran, but that's just longevity. Not ring prowess.

The "I can see why" that Nikki spat at Laurel hit a nerve that by all rights, shouldn't have been hit. They're pushing 30 years old, getting towards the number that usually signifies the beginning of the end of a typical Diva's career. Layla was an exception to the rule currently, as obviously is Mae Young, but Nikki more so than her twin Brie can generally target and zone in on a rookie's weaknesses. Nikki can see by how Laurel more or less comes to work, does her job and leaves, saying little and trying to just pick up more skills...that Laurel could eventually become a viable threat to their spots if she wasn't kept "in her place" by verbal jabs and sometimes stiffness in the ring to keep her in her place. The fact that Laurel hasn't "aligned" with anybody in the Diva Locker Room also doesn't help. Eva Marie is all over the Bellas, kissing their asses, carrying their bags..she'd even scraped Nikki AND Brie's feet with a Ped Egg in the locker room in front of everyone, and it was gross, with skin shavings raining down like snow...it's the girls that do things like *that*, that get helped along up the roster.

Well, the only other way up is sleeping with a Superstar. Laurel's not doing that either. So.

Laurel mumbled a thank you to Nikki and headed towards makeup. The reason she was needed was that they wanted to test a different liquid foundation makeup on her, not because she was in need of a repair or something. "Kelly wore what we've been using on you, but you have better skin and we have a better blend that might look nicer on TV," the artist explained. "And since you have some downtime, we figured now was better than waiting until your next TV taping."

"Also doesn't hurt to keep her from the bitches in the locker room," smirked Big Show, as he walked past. Paul Wight's been in this company long enough to know that someone like Laurel's going to get chewed up and spit out by those women if she doesn't watch herself. "Keep her in here long as you can." Big Show winked at a stunned Laurel, and went on his way to go see if what he'd heard was true, if Randy was basically channeling the spirit of Triple H in the locker room, or was it some sort of rib.


End file.
